


Well Intended Love

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Canon Compliant, Headcanon, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: November, 2007"On your left!" A voice called out.Boris frowned slightly as a runner came much too close for his personal comfort. Cerulean eyes narrowed and darted over to see who had dared to--"Thanks!" The man said brightly as he breezed by with the most incredible smile.Boris watched him continue up the street and turn the corner, inexplicably transfixed.
Relationships: Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz/Hank Lawson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Well Intended Love

"On your left!" A voice called out.

Boris frowned slightly as a runner came much too close for his personal comfort. Cerulean eyes narrowed and darted over to see who had dared to--

"Thanks!" The man said brightly as he breezed by with the most incredible smile.

Boris watched him continue up the street and turn the corner, inexplicably transfixed. He went on with his day but never quite forgot about the encounter. Hours ticked by, growing into days, weeks, months-- he kept returning to their brief encounter in his mind. Sometimes the stranger's smile would pop into his head like a catchy tune he couldn't seem to resist. Sometimes when people thanked him he heard that voice in the back of his mind echo with them. He would deny it until his last breath, but sometimes at night he even dreamed of those shoulders always just out of reach. Much to his surprise, Boris found he didn't particularly want to forget it. 

Eight long months passed with the only the occasional and fleeting reminder of the unforgettable man. Soon after their encounter in the temperature dropped as November turned into December and Boris found himself enduring the subsequent miserable winter while stoutly refusing to consider why exactly he was so determined to remain in Manhattan with he could be wintering in the Caribbean or the Mediterranean or Africa as he usually did. It wasn't as if he was hoping to run into the runner again-- There were so many people in the congested city, what were the chances he would ever see the man again? 

As the weeks wore on he considered actually doing the math-- He worked in finance, he had unfettered access to the most cutting-edge statistic generating software, it wouldn't be particularly difficult to actually check the likelihood and no one would dare question why he had run the numbers. Of course the programs recorded the searches with employee numbers, so they would still know the company's President was looking for the chance of running into the same person on the street twice in Manhattan and that was gossip he surely was not interested in being involved in. He decided not to run the numbers after all… But still he stayed in the city. He waited through the dismal winter that trudged by with all the speed of a snail and stretched into late April until at long last the unseasonably snowy spring melted into a brilliantly verdant summer. 

He was celebrating the closing of a massive deal at the seafood restaurant Per Se with a cognac in hand and a number of colleagues surrounding him when a woman across the restaurant suddenly screamed. A nearby server called for a doctor. Boris was fairly certain he was hallucinating as someone jumped up to help.

It was the runner.

"I'm Hank." The stranger who now had a name reassured the man on the ground. "I'm a doctor, and I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

Hank's voice was even better in real life than in Boris' recollections. It was like listening to the gentle crash of waves on the beach: rough and smooth and hypnotic all at once. It was intimate and intense and reassuring as he treated the man on the floor-- a man Boris was absolutely not jealous of-- with a caviar spoon, a wine bottle opener, and four cloth napkins. 

The doctor was more handsome than he'd first realized, too. Muscular arms were encased in a closely fitted button down shirt that highlighted his athletic build while flattering trousers drew the eye to a well-sculpted backside. Boris let his appreciative gaze linger a moment longer than he should have before returning it to the man's exceptional face. Hank was the kind of effortlessly attractive that people flocked to: warm hazel eyes, an easy smile, hair you wanted to tangle your fingers in. He was breathtaking. 

That brilliant smile was less than twenty feet and somehow still a million miles away. Hank was busy saving someone's life and colleagues or not, Boris didn't trust a single person at his table with a single iota of his personal information. Not only could he not simply walk over to talk to the doctor, but he knew he needed to avert his eyes before any curiosity was piqued or suspicions were aroused from the colleagues surrounding him. Looking away from Hank would have been easier to do if it weren't for the possibility that his men might not be able to find the doctor's identity based on the few details he had. 

It would not be the last time they met. 

Boris reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket for his phone. Hand closing around the device he couldn't put it off any longer-- he dragged his eyes away from the handsome doctor loading his patient onto a stretcher and quickly sent an email to his security team requesting that a background check be done on the man. Hopefully Hank would not be overly difficult to locate-- When he looked up again both doctor and patient were gone. The feeling inside him was like a bothersome cut that refused to heal. Boris discreetly caught the attention of their server and arranged for Hank's dinner bill to be paid, trying not to think too much about how a doctor was just the right person to fix a nagging wound.

The next day Galiel informed him there were more than sixty doctors matching the description-- name included some form of Hank, age between twenty-eight and forty, average height, athletic build-- in Manhattan alone. There were hundreds in the remaining four Boroughs and surrounding commuting areas. It would take time, but the former Mossad agent was confident the doctor would be found shortly. Boris thanked the man and lit a celebratory cigar.

He insisted to himself that he would not indulge in imagining Hank sharing a drink with him on the balcony while dusk settled over Central Park and sunset cast them both in its rosy glow. He wouldn't envision that brilliant smile directed at him or how it would make him feel to be free of restraint around someone. He wouldn't fantasize about dragging that body against his, the press of those lips to his, or how just a glance at the man made his heart race in a way it never had before.

It took nearly three months for them to positively identify Doctor Henry Lawson and run a background check on the man. The months felt somehow longer than the previous eight. Late August was the quiet season for Festung, and so Boris found himself spending more time with his other pursuits. He fenced with Dieter. He did humanitarian work. He whiled away the time that should have been precious to him. 

Saying everything felt meaningless would have been unnecessarily melodramatic. He was forty-three years old; it was more that he had done everything he had ever been inclined to do. Without significant physical limitations or financial constraints and knowing that he only had so much time… He had lived his life to the fullest. There was only one thing he had escaped him. Companionship.

Hank felt like the final piece of his puzzle or the keystone to his self-actualization. It was the last remaining thing he needed before he died-- unconditional love. In his father's dark and final days just before his death, Boris had been there. Maximilian Friedrich Alexander had not gone to meet any Great Creator alone; Boris had been by his side with all the unconditional love a child has for their parent. 

He wanted that. He wanted someone who would see it through to the end with him, someone who would monitor his changes and navigate the challenges with him as things progressed. For a time four years earlier he had thought Marisa was that person. Regrettably her love had turned out to be predicated on his ability to give her a child. A child who would live each day fearing the future and who would die in incomprehensible agony just as Boris was certain to. He couldn't help but hope Hank would feel differently about the situation. 

The day after he received the security team's full report Boris watched from the heavily tinted window of the Porsche as a pale, exhausted looking Hank left the hospital at ten in the morning. Professionally speaking, he'd discovered the good doctor was above reproach. Hank had been hand picked by his predecessor and trained to be the head of his department from the first day of residency. He had both the lowest malpractice rates the hospital had seen in years and the highest patient satisfaction. He was everything that medicine should be, and everything Boris regretted it wasn't always. All of his patients said they were exceptionally confident in his ability and many felt Hank gave them hope when they were lost. Not one had a bad thing to say about Doctor Henry Lawson.

His career was brilliant, but Boris was more interested in the man's personal life-- which proved to be more difficult than expected. Even his illustrious team of security and private investigators could not seem to come up with much about Hank Lawson. He had no social media, no traceable internet accounts that could be linked to him, it was like the man was unaware that there were technological advances after 1995-- Which was another positive trait, as far as Boris was concerned. Hank appeared to be nearly as private as himself. 

What they had been able to dig up about the doctor's personal life was mostly his financials, and even that was impressive. He lived well within his means, maybe even excessively so. He had a healthy and diversified stock portfolio, a robust retirement plan, no debt, and despite making a third of a million dollars a year he still used a flip phone.

On paper at least, they were supremely well suited. Truth be told, if it was possible for Boris to be in love with someone he'd never met, Hank would be the one… Which he knew was a ridiculous thought to even entertain, so he simply refused to consider the absurd notion that he somehow already loved Hank Lawson or that he could fall in love with anyone with whom he had--again, but it was worth repeating-- yet to actually meet. He had recently turned forty three and was far too old for such a ludicrous situation.

He noticed Hank had not flagged down a cab and wondered briefly if the younger man needed a ride home. He could get out of the Porsche and go ride with his security team, sending his car to give Hank a ride to the man's apartment. He discarded the idea quickly; what kind of intelligent creature would get in a stranger's Porsche in New York City? The good doctor was far too intelligent for such a ridiculous plot, something he'd learned when he received Hank's criminal background check and discovered that the man's only brush with law enforcement was for counting cards in Atlantic City when he was twenty two. Not only was Hank academically bright, but he was nimble-minded. Exactly the sort of person who would mesh well with Boris' complicated life.

Hank appeared to change his mind as he visibly sighed and flagged down a cab half way down the block. Without even being asked Natan started the car to follow the doctor's ride at a reasonable distance. Boris wasn't sure how he felt about his security team knowing that he was clearly losing his mind even before his disease set in, but at some point it was too late to remedy the situation anyway and that point had clearly passed quite a long time ago.

"I don't understand myself fully these days, Dieter." He confessed more candidly than he usually spoke.

"May I speak freely, Sir?" Dieter asked from the front seat as his gaze drifted to his usual spot at Boris' side.

"Of course." 

"Is there a plan in place to introduce yourself?

There were a hundred plans, a thousand, each grander than the last. He wanted their first real meeting to be so memorable that in twenty years Hank would still remember every word, every smile, every look. He wasn't certain yet what opportunity he was waiting for, but he knew in his very soul that it had not yet arrived. 

"I am waiting for the right moment." He said as Hank got out of the cab and half-stumbled through the door to his apartment building. The man was home and safe. "I never make a move before I am ready to."

Dieter, never one to impose an opinion on even the most insignificant event, remained blessedly silent.

Late summer ebbed into another dull fall when he received a short message:

Doctor Lawson has become romantically involved with one Nicole Montgomery AKA Nikki. Details to follow.

Boris did not dramatically flounce from Manhattan, no matter how Dima characterized his sudden departure. He simply took three months to right his longer than usual absence from the Swiss branch of Festung. He had employees to evaluate, renovation to oversee, account holders to placate. His decision to winter in Monte Carlo had everything to do with a favorable climate and was completely unrelated to the report where he learned Hank had spent just over ten thousand dollars on an engagement ring at Tiffany. 

Ms Montgomery came from a well-to-do family pleasantly nestled in the lower echelons of the upper class where a ten thousand dollar ring would be referred to as either 'delicate', 'simple', or 'charming'. Ten years down the line when Hank invariably became Chief of Medicine (a largely administrative job he would likely despise considering his gifts of bedside manner and ingenuity) she'd want an upgrade-- Need, she'd insist-- and by then they would have a veritable passel of children and Hank would sigh resignedly and agree. 

Boris didn't think about Hank's future without him often, but occasionally he did indulge in one glass too many and his mind always seemed to turn to the good doctor. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't waited for just the right moment, or what if he had never met the man at all, or his favorite fantasy-- What if that perfect first meeting was still looming on the horizon. A lot could still happen in the four months before the Montgomery-Lawson nuptials.

When the last of the ice melted from Manhattan's too-narrow streets in early April, Boris reluctantly returned to Long Island. He had agreed to host a charity event at Shadow Pond for some very questionable investors and while he had a plan in place to ensure none of them would ever find work again, he still would have preferred to avoid the mess entirely. He was standing at the balustrade greeting his ill-fated guests when he was asked to identify someone.

For the slightest moment he thought it was Hank.

Then he realized the sleight frame, the hair pomade, the nervous set of the man's grin--It was a Lawson. It just wasn't the correct one. He assumed the CPA had come in response to the Ponzi scheme he had been ensnared finding investors for, but even if Boris had been inclined to help there was nothing to be done. He sent Mr Evan R Lawson away, claiming he did not know the man. 

That evening he read the report from Hank's engagement party, which had apparently been an unmitigated disaster that ended with the groom-to-be making a clandestine trip to visit his highschool sweetheart's bakery and receiving a black eye for his trouble. Boris considered the man's actions and wondered if he should have invited Evan in that afternoon. Perhaps he could have persuaded the CPA to his side-- But how would he explain knowing who the accountant was or why he knew the man's brother? Considering the mess the younger Lawson was already in, it probably wouldn't have been worth the headache. 

Only three weeks had passed in a forgettable stretch of mediocrity when Hank's life suddenly spiraled out of control. Boris watched from afar as John Gardener died under Doctor Lawson's care. Medicine had become nothing more than bureaucracy wrapped in red-tape and the hospital still fired Hank within a week. They volunteered their golden goose for slaughter to keep a benefactor's family. It was maddening.

The man started out with so much fight, but as the weeks wore on and the lawsuits stacked Boris watched Hank's spirit wear out. The Gardeners had ensured the doctor couldn't get any type of work east of Chicago and Boris was fairly certain they would extend their reach farther if Hank began looking for work on the west coast, too. The daily reports dwindled to single sentences: Henry Lawson did not leave his domicile today. 

His fiancée stopped by less and less, spending more and more time at the condo she was supposed to be selling. A month after Hank was fired, Ms Nicole Montgomery went into the apartment wearing a Tiffany engagement ring and left in tears without it. Boris' feelings on the matter were complex: watching Hank go through one of the worst periods of his life unable to help was terrible, but with each tie to his former life cut Hank became increasingly free to start anew somewhere else. Perhaps Boris still did have a chance to woo the man that had distracted him for a year and a half. Perhaps he was not too late, after all.

Boris crossed his arms, a small smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. Whether or not Hank Lawson fell in love with him, whether or not they were compatible in any real way, he had already decided to save the man's career. It was the least he could do, all things considered. He could feel it in his very soul-- It was finally the right time to intervene in Hank's fate.

"His fiancée has left him, his job has fired him, he's drowning in debt-- Why don't we give him something to take his mind off it?" Boris announced suddenly.

"What would you like to be arranged?"

"We'll go through the brother; he's easily influenced enough. Have him run into some people discussing the party-- the more ridiculous the information the better. I believe Evan Lawson the CPA has an interest in advancing his personal circumstances."

"How do we ensure he will bring Doctor Lawson?" Dieter asked in a way that was clear he wasn't actually questioning him, just making arrangements.

"All they have is one another, especially now." Boris replied confidently. "They will attend together."

His party was in two weeks-- he was so close to finally meeting the man who had fascinated him for the last year and a half it nearly didn't seem real. If all went well Hank would be the greatest gift he'd ever received and then he could see that smile every day for the rest of his life. Boris felt his smirk widen at the edges until he was grinning. He suspected it would be a much more common occurrence in the near future.

**Author's Note:**

> Well Intended Love is actually the name of a very enjoyable Chinese Drama I watched and just couldn't stop thinking about. I can't tell you how it inspired this or it'll ruin it! It's on Netflix.
> 
> Anyway, to the Headcanon. I was thinking about Boris trusting Hank (based on a 4 minute exchange in the pilot) enough to invite him to move into the guesthouse. What security team worth their salt would allow that? They're the best security in the world and they just let some guy with a fake accent and faker ID breeze right through the entrance?
> 
> Maybe Evan got lucky and Horis has such intense chemistry that Boris invited him to move in on the spot. 
> 
> Or --
> 
> Maybe they met before. Maybe it was a chance encounter that Hank doesn't even remember but to Boris? That moment was everything.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> How's everyone holding up? I swear I haven't abandoned Getting to Know You! I have two more fics almost done--Another from my fix-it series (it's a little sexy), and a first meeting AU where April never gets sick at the party.


End file.
